


The Impossible Dream

by ThoughtsRemain



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/M, Female Runner Five, I haven't written fanfic in 10 years please be gentle with me, Listen some of this was just an excuse for smut, Specifically feelings about Runner Seven from which i am still unrecovered, i just have a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:43:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtsRemain/pseuds/ThoughtsRemain
Summary: Runner Seven has some feelings. Possible spoilers for both seasons 1 and 2.
Relationships: Evan Deaubl/Runner Five
Kudos: 13





	1. On My Own

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing, and the editing for this was scarce, nor did anyone beta for me, so please forgive any errors. I've tried to catch them along the way. Also forgive me in general, I have strong feelings about Evan, and have no idea where I'm going with any of this.

She’s a curious little thing, he thinks, the moment she appears for their run. Not that you could really call it a run. More like a test drive, he supposed. An introduction. 

Quiet. 

Certainly not military, even if she had come from Mullins. She didn’t have any of the hallmarks of military training, she seemed much more like a civilian. Just …. One full of determination. Or maybe it was resolve. 

Which was fine by him, really. They had more than enough of the military at Abel. Too many and things would start to get boring. And she listened to direction well. She’d catch on quickly enough. She’d be fast, once she got some practice in. She was sturdy. Quick on her feet. She’d do well once she adjusted. 

“Evan.” He pauses once they’re back and settled behind the gate again, quickly offering her a hand. “We use numbers out in the field, but … it’s always seemed just a bit too formal inside the gates. Doesn’t sit well with anyone.”

He smiles warmly. He thinks it’s warmly, anyway. It was hard to tell, really. Sometimes he felt so …. Disconnected. It helped in a pinch, when he needed to stay calm. Other times it just felt … odd. 

He comes back to himself after a moment though. Once she takes his hand, and shakes it firmly. 

“Laura …”

It’s a moment before he realizes it’s the first time he’s heard her speak. Something about it makes his chest warm, for a reason he can’t quite identify, so he smiles. Gives her a nod. 

“You’ll fit right in, I think.” 

***

It’s all whispers for days. 

Then again, he supposes it’s understandable. Soap operas weren’t exactly broadcast anymore, people had to get their entertainment somewhere, and gossip was more entertaining than ever now, given the lack of other available resources. 

And people were afraid, he supposed. Or at least anxious. Helo crashes weren’t exactly common, even in the apocalypse. 

And they seem an odd kind of thing to target with a rocket launcher.  
People are avoiding her. It’s visible, almost. Like she can part the red sea. Part of him hopes she hasn’t noticed, she’s got enough adjusting to do as it is. 

It doesn’t seem to have thrown Jody, at least. Although he’s certain Jody would make friends with a rock if no one else was available. Which was endearing, in a way. Not that he’d admit it. 

He does his best to mind his own business, mostly. But his own business, at this point, is the runners. And he’d swear to god, sometimes it felt like they never left him alone. Head of Runners wasn’t even an official title, and yet --

“You don’t think it’s just a bit sad?”

He pauses, midway through a spoonful of beans, eyebrows lifting as he glances up at Jody for some kind of clarification. 

“Runner Five.” She says, like it should’ve been obvious. “Crashed in that helicopter, and got stuck here with nothing but the clothes on her back, and now half the town’s avoidin’ her …” Jody pauses, picking at her own dinner for a moment. “She’s got nothing in her bunk but those clothes, and she’s just in there all the time, all quiet like. I offered to knit her something, but she said no. Said she wouldn’t have anything to give me in return.” 

She pauses again. 

“I don’t think she knows what gifts are, Evan ….”

Evan pauses, finishing his food with a soft sigh. 

“Maybe that’s how she likes things. Simple.” He shrugs. 

“No one likes things tha’ simple ….” Jody blinks, nose quickly wrinkling. 

So it’s Jody’s fault, when he shows up at Five’s bunk later, clearing his throat as he gives the makeshift door a gentle kind of knock. 

She looks perplexed, eyebrows raising as she peeks out from behind it. And he feels a little self conscious, for what felt like the first time in twenty-some odd years. 

“Housewarming gift.” He pauses, lifting the potted succulent he’d carried over. “One of our old runners brought a few back on an entertainment run, early on. God knows why they thought it was a good idea, but ….”

Well. Here they were. 

She’s still quiet, but she smiles a bit, so that was something.  
“The thing is … I can’t quite get the hang of caring for them. Seems a shame to see it die, so …” 

He trails off, when she reaches for the plant, inspecting it with a smile once she takes it. It’s a relief, for some reason, although he can’t quite put his finger on why. 

“Th - th - th …” She stops, heaving a breath and clenching her jaw before she glances up at him with an apologetic looking frown. “Thank you.” 

Right. A stutter. Maybe that’s what kept her so quiet. It wasn’t uncommon, honestly. Not from what he’d heard. Stutters coming back during times of stress. And it was the apocalypse, after all. 

He doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“You’re welcome.”


	2. Don't Rain on My Parade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a showtunes positive household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide if I should fit this in with a longer chapter, so it feels short. But it also felt separate, so here we are.

She likes showtunes. 

He hears her singing, sometimes, in the showers. Always very quietly, but she’s got a steady, classic kind of sound. 

Sam throws her under the bus one day, at dinner. Accidentally, of course. It was always accidental, with Sam, he could hardly keep his mouth shut on a good day, and he means well. 

“You should have Five on Radio Abel. Laura’s great …”

He pauses to chew, as Jack and Eugene look at him with raised eyebrows. 

“She sings sometimes. Y’know, on runs. On the boring ones, when she’s by herself. It’s like she forgets I’m there …”

Jack and Eugene blink, in Union. 

“I’ve never even heard her say more than three words at a time.” Jack starts.

“Oh, yeah. It’s incredible, when she sings -- no stutter.” Sam shrugs, shaking his head as he fusses with his food again. 

“D’you think she would?” Eugene’s eyebrows are practically in his hairline. And Evan has half a mind just to tell them to leave her well enough alone, but Jack’s already glommed on to the idea, so it hardly mattered now. 

“Well, we have to ask …” Jack presses forward, grin spreading over his face, wider by the second. 

“What if she’s embarrassed ….” Eugene protests. It won’t last though, he never tells Jack no for too long. 

“Oh, come on. We’ll never know if we don’t ask. Maybe she’s just waiting for the opportunity …”

Evan sighs, picking up his plate and heading off as they continue to debate. 

Maybe he should warn her.


	3. Helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five has some habits she should probably talk with someone about ...

She sleeps in such odd places. 

He would’ve assumed at this point that it had something to do with trauma. Or grief, maybe. They were all still reeling a bit. From the loss of Sara. And Abel. But he’d noticed it well before the rocket launcher attack. He used to find her tucked under tables. Benches. Tucked away in tight corners.

For a while, he’d assumed she was sleep walking. He’d even stayed up to watch for her one night, but no -- it seemed it was a conscious choice. Maybe she just preferred smaller spaces. PTSD did that to people sometimes, he’d seen it. It was the kind of thing he could leave well enough alone, as long as she was still sleeping. 

But it’s not as safe here in New Canton as it was in Abel. 

Not for her, anyway. The tension was obvious. Palpable. Letting her guard down would only prove to be a disaster. She knew that well enough, so she stayed close to their quarters. Close-ish, anyway. 

It’s close to midnight when he stumbles across her again, asleep and tucked in against a bench. 

“Five. Five --” He sighs. God, she really did sleep like the bloody dead. A frown flickers briefly across his face, before he manages to reach out and gently give her shoulder a shake. “Laura.” 

Nothing. Damn. 

And he couldn’t just leave her out here. Nor could they stay, really. It was near enough freezing -- too near for comfort. So he resigns himself, shifting to get his arms underneath her to haul her up off the bench. She’s light, so it’s hardly a task. 

He’s not about to search her pockets for a key to her dorm, so he settles her in his own instead, already resigned to sleeping on the floor. Besides, maybe if she couldn’t get out without stepping on him, she’d sleep in the bloody bed the rest of the night for once instead. And Bonnie doesn’t seem to mind the extra company, even if she is perplexed about why he’s suddenly on the floor. She delights in the sleepover, though, settling in next to him with a content wag of her tail. 

He hears Five stir a few hours later. He’s not nearly as deep a sleeper, so he notices, sitting up just as soon as she does, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as she gives him a quizzical look.   
“You can’t sleep on benches, Laura.” 

She starts to form a protest. He doesn’t let it get very far. 

“No. That was okay in Abel township. It’s not in New Canton. Nadia would just as soon see you smothered in your sleep --”

“She wouldn’t.” Five interjects, swinging her legs off the side of Evan’s cot to face him. 

“She would.” Evan’s frown only deepens. “And it’s only getting colder. I can’t send you out on runs if I don’t know you’re well enough rested. It’s too risky. People depend on you. Abel depends on you.”

Five blinks. 

“I sleep just fine.” 

“Well, I won’t.” Evan huffs sharply, scrubbing briefly at the side of his face. “Not knowing you’re possibly out in the open, asleep on a bench, in the cold. I can’t allow it.”

“You’re not in charge.” She fixes him with a glare. He fixes her with one right back. 

“Five, what exactly is the problem? What’s the problem with cots? Or beds? Real, warm beds, five. Explain your aversion.” 

He holds her gaze for as long as he can, but she turns away quickly, shrugging as she finds something to pick at. A thread, in the canvas of his cot. He almost feels bad, for the vague heat the conversation had taken on. 

“I th -- I th -- th --” She stops again, flinching at herself before she takes a deep breath. “I think too much. It’s too quiet. And being out in the open feels … it feels safer, somehow.” 

Right. 

Well. 

There it was. 

He holds her gaze again, when she glances back at him finally. He could understand it. Fear did odd things to people. They all had their scars. More than any of them ever expected they’d amass. So he sighs, scrubbing briefly at his face again in silence. 

“Why don’t you stay here. I’ll sleep on the floor until we’re able to move back to Abel. It shouldn’t be all that long, God willing.”

“Evan, I can’t -- you can’t sleep on the floor.” Her protest doesn’t last long, wilting as he fixes her with another glare. Not as dark though, this time. But not asking for a challenge, either. 

“Just until we get back to Abel. You sleep here, or neither of us sleep at all.” 

She’s silent a moment, smirk flickering across her lips as she pulls her knees up to her chest. “You know, if you were Simon, I’d assume that was a come on.” 

He blinks. 

Maybe it would’ve been, if he didn’t feel so strongly about the situation. 

She cracks after a moment, leaning into her knees with a sigh. “Only if you’re sure you don’t mind.” 

“I don’t.” He stiffens, resisting his urge to reach out and brush her hair away from her face. Not now. Best not to make her uncomfortable. 

“Fine …”


	4. What is This Feeling?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #ArchieDeservedBetter2k20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for what a mess this might be, I wrote it at like 1am.

She collects rocks. Pebbles, really. Squirreling one or two away in a pocket whenever she spots one while she’s out on a run. 

He can’t believe he’s never noticed before -- he hadn’t noticed at all, really, until he’d suddenly become aware of the little pile collecting under one of the feet of his cot. 

“She is like a little penguin, I think.” Archie brings it up, unprompted, at lunch one day. Beaming like it was the most delightful thing she’d ever heard. “Collecting little pebbles. Do you think she is building a nest -- ?” 

Evan’s eyebrows lift as Archie giggles to herself. 

“Of course not. Humans do not build nests.” She laughs, answering her own question with a smile. “That would be very silly. And uncomfortable, I think.” 

She perplexes him further a few days later, when she appears out of nowhere and presses a smooth, jet-black stone into his hand and winks. 

“For Five. For her nest.” 

And then she’s off, with a giggle, before he can question why she couldn’t just give it to her, herself. He’s grateful for it though, later that night, when he hands the pebble over to Five, and her face lights up with a rare kind of smile. He’d swear, just for a moment, that she blushes. But that seems absurd, so he brushes past the moment instead, and sighs. 

“There’s a cave system nearby. Full of little rocks, like that. Pity they’re so difficult to get to, with the zoms …”

Someday, maybe. 

Eventually. 

***

The news of Archie’s death rolls through Abel Township like a shockwave. 

There’s a concussive kind of force to it. 

It’s quiet when Five returns. 

Sam is nearly inconsolable. Maxine busies herself with something, quietly checking Five over before sending her off to the showers. It’s different, somehow. The grief of it. 

Maybe it was just because it was Archie. 

Sweet, funny, talkative Archie. 

Or maybe it was the sense of failure, amongst them. There were always so many missed opportunities. Mistakes made. Mistakes were natural. This felt personal, though, somehow. The guilt of it practically hung in the air. 

He finds Five what seems like hours later. 

Sitting out in front of the showers, in the cold, with a towel in her lap. Just staring off into the distance. Shellshock, he supposed. He’d seen it before. Maxine had mentioned that Five had come home with her ears still ringing.

She and Jaime had been so close to those explosions after all. And with no protection. 

He’d have sent Jody to look after her, but Jody’s feelings are always on her sleeve, and she’s raw as well. The last thing he wants is for Five to have to comfort Jody instead, so he refrains. 

And Sara’s out on a run of her own. 

And Janine could be ….. Harder than she intended to be, sometimes. Cold. 

So he finds himself kneeling in front of Five with a sympathetic frown. Settling in the silence of it all for a moment, before he reaches out to her. 

“Laura …” 

God, she’s still covered in soot. Ash in her hair. Streaks of it across her face, and her arms. Like she’d dragged herself through rubble. Maybe she had. Someone had to bring Archie home, after -- after all of it was said and done. 

He doesn’t want to startle her. So he’s gentle, waiting until she glances up at him before he reaches to brush her hair from her face. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm? Do you want some help?” 

She nods, but she doesn’t move. So he manages for her, shifting to get his hands under her arms until he can pull her up. And he’s struck with the thought, again, that she weighs almost nothing. It’s like she’s a ghost, for a moment. Made up of dust, and ashes. 

It’s late now. Which is lucky for them, he supposes. They’re alone, and it’s quiet, and the water should still be hot. So he guides her inside. Leaves her in the corner for a moment while he secures the door. And she’s still just stood there, when he turns back around. Shaking, suddenly. Like she’ll fall to pieces if she’s left unsupported. And for a moment, he’s worried she will -- that she’ll fall. Like some kind of puppet without strings, so he reaches back out, just to support her elbows. 

“Can I help you get these off?” He pauses, just until she meets his eyes again. Until she nods her confirmation, and he can see on her face that she understands. And he nods, in turn, setting her towel aside on a bench, before he returns to gently help guide her shirt off, so she’s left in one of those sports bras she obsessively collects. 

He’s almost afraid to let go for a moment, but she steadies enough to stand on her own while he busies himself with her leggings, quietly instructing her to step out, once he’s dragged them down enough. 

God, the bruises. He’d have to see if he could talk Janine into taking her out of the rotation for a few days. He doubted, at this point, that she’d argue much. He’d take the morning shifts though, if he had to. Just to get Five some room to breathe. 

He leaves her shirt, and her leggings, in a pile on the bench, and then it’s off with his own, until he’s left in his pants. And he doesn’t spare a moment, shifting quickly to pull her into a stall and turn the water on, so she’s not left there shivering. 

It’s a relief, more than anything. The water. The heat of it. And it’s easier than he’d have expected, focusing on the routine of it. She still doesn’t seem like she can stand, so he does what he can, pulling her into his chest to wrap his arm around the small of her back. The ash is starting to wash itself away on its own, but he does his best to assist, getting a palm full of shampoo and working it gently through her hair with his fingers. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” He says, when she tucks herself into his front. He’s still not sure what happened, frankly. 

But he knows this well enough. 

“I want you to know that. That it wasn’t your fault.” 

Her shoulders shake, after a moment. And she muffles a sob against his shoulder, but it’s the first sound she’s made all night, so he’ll take it as progress, even if it seems painful. And he holds her even tighter, for a moment, until she works through all the tears. 

He’s not even sure how long they’ve been there, but the water starts to go cold, all at once. And she’s clean. So he shifts to turn the water off with her still balanced, somehow, against his chest. And then they’re stuck there, in silence, while he contemplates the next steps. 

He’s deliberate about everything. All of it step by step. Every day. There’s always a plan. This is unfamiliar, though. Determining step two, for someone else. And he’s jarred out of his process, suddenly, when he feels her lips press against his shoulder. 

Just for a moment. Before she’s tucked in against his chest again. And for the first time in his life -- for as long as he can remember, he wants to stay there and hold someone. Hold her until things seem okay.

But this was the apocalypse. 

Things would never really be okay. Not entirely, anyway. 

His throat clears after a moment, rumbles through his chest before he sighs, and moves to sit her back down on the bench so he can help her towel off. She’s got clean sweats to change into, at least. He’s got ….. Well, nothing, but the Runner’s quarters weren’t all that far off. A minute's walk, at best. 

Survivable, even in the cold. 

So he helps her get redressed, and takes a breath. “Do you want to stay with me, tonight?” He pauses, eyebrows lifted as silence lingers for a moment. Maybe it wasn’t right to ask. Maybe now wasn’t the time. But she nods, just as quickly, so he nods in turn. “I think Bonnie misses you anyway.”

He smirks errantly. Just to try and lighten the mood.   
It works. Just a little. 

He picks her up again, after a moment, piling her discarded clothes and towel back in her lap. They’re lucky it’s so late, really. No one’s out. It’s easy enough to get back to the runner’s quarters without any looks. 

Bonnie is about as ecstatic as she’s ever been, tail wagging at a hundred miles an hour as she circles. She’s well trained, though. Settles down after a moment, once he sets five down on the bed. 

God, it was so nice to be back in an actual bed. Or -- what was close enough to an actual bed, these days. Better than the cots in New Canton, at least. 

He’s exhausted. He hadn’t noticed before, but ….. Christ, it settles in the moment they’re finally both still. He’s still damp, but at least she looks better than she did before -- although -- it’s not like she’s not in her own damp underthings as well, from the shower and all. 

He hadn’t really thought this through, not the way he normally did.

He sighs after a moment, frowning as he shifts to straighten up. He could leave her be, for now. Maybe change and head outside so she can get herself out of that wet sports bra of hers -- 

But she holds him steady. 

Really holds onto him, slight fingers gripping his forearm as he moves to stand. So he hesitates, and sits back on the bed, sighing before he reaches to push wet hair back out of her face. 

“It’s okay. I’m just going to go outside for a moment --”

Her lips are against his so quickly he hardly has time to process it. In the time it takes to take a breath. And he shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but he leans in nevertheless, eyes closing as he pushes his fingers further back through her hair, until he can grip the back of her head. 

It’s shocking, almost. 

How warm he feels, all at once. How suddenly he forgets about the zombies outside. How desperate he really was for some kind of physical contact. They were all desperate now. 

“Laura --”

He gasps a breath in, after a moment, reaching to press back against her shoulders as she leans in. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. 

Not right now, not in the middle -- not while she was in the middle of processing something this -- something so traumatic. The grief alone --  
He’d never forgive himself. Letting her do something she might regret later on. 

Out of all the bloody choices in Abel, why the hell would she pick him to begin with. Jesus --

But she looks -- well …. Wounded, for lack of a better word. And God, it’s not like he doesn’t -- not like he hadn’t ever thought -- christ, that wasn’t the kind of thing to admit to either. 

“You had a traumatic day, Five.” He pauses, clearing his throat after a second. “Look --” He takes a breath as her gaze drops, jaw working as he quickly shakes his head. “Just give it a night, hm? But not today. It can’t be today ….”

She seems to understand what he’s implying, at least. And she nods, letting her fingers trail down his arm to his wrist. But she still doesn’t let go, curling up in his bed instead as she watches him. And suddenly damp underthings don’t seem to matter at all, really. So he curls up next to her, and shifts until he can get an arm underneath her to drag her into his chest. 

She fits there. It’s absurd to think, but she does. And suddenly, he can’t help but wonder why they hadn’t tried this sooner.


	5. Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I told you some of this was an excuse for smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not written smut in a million years. I am a dinosaur. Thank you, and goodnight.

God, what a day. 

What a fucking day. 

It’s exhilarating, honestly. 

Boats, and runaway trains, and horses. Like a bloody post-apocalyptic Western. The child buried deep inside him still would’ve been thrilled. It’s Five though, who’s the hero of the day. Better than anyone he’d seen in any actual Western. 

Owen won’t stop talking about it. How she saved his life, and the horses. Pulled herself up in one fell swoop. Sam won’t either. Sam had pulled the liquor out as soon as they’d all gotten home, a hero’s reward, he’d insisted. 

Five was practically glowing. 

He’d never felt so proud of anyone. Not once in his life, not ever. She’s nothing short of a miracle. Not that he could figure out how to say that kind of thing out loud. 

It’s late, by the time everyone disperses, and they’re able to make their way back to their quarters. And perhaps he should have sent her back to her own bed, to get some actual rest, but she’s just as animated as ever, telling him about the day again in hushed tones, with animated gestures. 

“Laura --”

He laughs, after a moment, sighing as he watches her. Her lips, more like. They were the only thing he’d been able to focus on for the last few hours. It would be embarrassing, but he’d had just enough to drink to forget about the obviousness of it for a moment. 

And she doesn’t seem to mind. 

And he doesn’t stop her this time, when she settles herself in his lap, straddling his hips as she presses her lips to his. 

God, he feels hot. Like he’s drowning, but taking the first real breath of air he’d gotten in nearly three years. Her hands hold his face, and he nearly melts, wrapping an arm under her ass to lift her as he stands, just to twist and drop her back onto the bed again. 

She’s quiet. 

She’s always so fucking quiet, and all at once it’s all he can think about. How he’d drive himself to disaster just to know what it sounds like when she moans. She’s already working his shirt off, but he does her one better, gripping her leggings, and her pants, and dragging them off in one fell swoop. 

Fuck him, she really is just so beautiful. 

He watches her, just for a moment, laughing quietly before she sits up just enough to drag her shirt over her head and discard it, and that fucking sports bra is gone seconds later, and he’s practically in a tailspin by then. 

He’d never wanted to touch someone so badly. 

She drags him back in moments later. Fingers tucked into the waist of his trousers. And he should take his time, he knows he should, but she’s got his zipper down, and her lips against his, and all at once his pants are gone, and her fingers -- Christ, her fingers are around his cock and he can’t even fucking think. 

He groans against her lips like he’s lost himself. And he tightens his grip in her hair, pulling at it until her head tilts back, and he can get his lips against her neck, teeth scraping over skin before he decides to suck at it instead. It’d leave a mark, but they could deal with that tomorrow. 

His hips roll into her touch, and he’s almost frantic for a moment, before she shifts, and wraps a leg up around his waist. 

And they were taking this too fast, but he can’t bring himself to care, pressing himself forward as she guides his cock inside her. He lifts his head, just to watch her shudder once his hips find hers, and he’s fully pressed inside.   
It’s so good. She just feels so good. 

He’s only still long enough to take a breath. Grip still firm in her hair as his hips pull back, and he languidly moves to thrust inside her again. 

And he realizes quickly enough that as much as he wants to hear her moan, it’s not practical, really. Not here, not with so many people to overhear, the walls were practically plywood, after all. So his hand finds her mouth, as he speeds up. 

And he does speed up. He’s practically frantic. And her knees fall open, just to let him in further, and she’s so fucking beautiful, back arching up with each rough thrust. And all at once, he feels her suddenly shudder around him, meeting her release with a gasp, and it’s all he needs, pressing himself as far into her as he can before he spills himself inside her. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

He can’t even think, for a moment, collapsing into her chest as her legs wrap themselves back around his hips. He’s panting when her fingers find his hair, nails brushing through it as she laughs, and presses a kiss to his temple. 

He felt liquid. 

Like he’d let go of stress that he’d held onto for 40 years. 

“I’m sorry ….” He mutters, his face finding itself in her shoulder as he catches his breath. Her fingers still in his hair for a moment, and he can tell she’s raising an eyebrow even if he’s not looking at her. 

“For what -- ?”

“Well. It’s just …. Been a few years.”

It’s a relief, somehow, when she laughs, and he can’t help but smile a moment later either. Not when she presses a kiss to his temple and settles herself underneath him. 

He hates it, a little bit. How natural it felt to have her here. 

It was never a good sort of plan -- not in the apocalypse. 

People only ever got hurt.


	6. SOS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van Ark can GO TO HELL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, again. But I'm still working on the second half of this, and that'll probably be QUITE A LOT longer, so have this in the mean time.

He’s out on a supply run when it happens. 

He can tell something’s wrong when the gates lift, and the entire township seems silent. He’s not entirely surprised, Sam had chimed in on his headset and told him to head home, immediately, but he hadn’t exactly been told why. 

Janine was in the Comms shack already, that was never a good sign.

And as calm as he had a reputation for being, something about the silence among them felt …. Off. Dreadful. Almost thick. 

“Sam --” He starts, maneuvering in behind Janine so he can get a good look at the monitors. 

He’d swear for a moment, his heart stops. 

“Where is this? What’s happening. Sam?” Evan holds his breath, a moment. Switches something off in his own head so he can think -- disassociating, maybe, was the word. At least that’s what they’d call it clinically, he supposed. 

Sometimes it was the only way to handle things, stepping away from yourself for a moment and going cold. 

It can’t be her. She wasn’t scheduled for a run today, and -- christ, was she chained to a truck? Was she running behind a truck? 

“Maxine took her out -- I tried to get them out, I just -- I …. We have to do something, Janine --” Sam stutters for a moment. Evan could practically hear the tears in his voice. “There must be something --”

She looks horrible, Five. It’s painful just to see her. And the feed isn’t even good. Her headcam must’ve been broken. Cracked and tossed into the bed of the truck. And her face is full of blood --

What the hell happened? 

“We can’t, Mister Yao. I’m sorry. We can’t risk another runner. Van Ark has too many people. We’d never make it …” Janine looks pained, for once. Which is saying something.

“Yeah, but -- God, Janine, he’ll kill her. She can’t -- she can’t keep that up, it’s a miracle she’s managed so far, we can’t just -- we can’t just let him --”

“She’s right.” Evan’s quiet. And he’d swear, his voice nearly cracks. Because it’s painful, but it’s true. Emotions didn’t always have their place, not in this world. “And Five wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt, you know that as well as I do…”

“Paula’s her only hope now.” Janine says quietly, setting her jaw. “Perhaps …. Perhaps you should switch off the monitors, Mister Yao. You don’t have to watch.”  
It’s the most gentle he thinks she’s ever been. 

Sam refuses. “No. She’s out there all alone, I won’t -- we can’t leave her. Even if that just means -- even if it means just watching, until the end.” 

There’s silence, for a moment. And Evan reaches out, to give Sam’s shoulder a squeeze. Because for a moment -- for the first moment in a long time, he’s not sure what else to do. Sometimes there was nothing else you could do. 

It feels like a miracle, when Paula bursts from the trees. When she appears in the truck, and Five is finally freed. A bitterly won miracle, but a miracle nevertheless. And Five is still standing. Moving. 

Thank God for that.


	7. No Matter How Hopeless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where are we going? No one knows at this point. Have some angst. Just a little. As a treat. This chapter ends a little abruptly, mostly because I couldn't figure out where to take it, and it seemed a little mundane. So .... thanks for sticking with me.

He catches her, when she finally stumbles back in through the gates and collapses. 

Simon hadn’t been wrong, she was barely recognizable. Evan had wanted to go get her himself, but -- well, more than half their runners were outside the gates now. At least one of them needed to stay inside, just in case disaster struck. So Abel wouldn’t be left without Runners. 

So he’s there to greet her, instead. 

Maxine takes the vials and runs. She doesn’t need to tell him to follow, hoisting Five into his arms before he sprints after her. 

So much blood. 

God, there was just so much blood, there was practically a trail of it, following behind them. It was the cuffs, he thinks. The chain from the jeep. Her wrists weren’t just raw, they were split open. And her legs -- god, he must’ve driven her right through bushes full of thorns. 

“Let me see her ….” Maxine stashes the vials, turning back as Evan sprints into the hospital, tailed closely enough by Sam. Loyal, caring Sam. He’s crying still, Evan doesn’t even need to look to see that. 

But Five is awake, at least. Barely. That was something. Awake, and shivering violently. 

“Were you bitten?” Maxine asks, moving alongside Evan as he searches for an empty bed. Five shakes her head. They’d been watching, but it’s a relief nevertheless to confirm. “We’re gonna need to stitch your wrists back up, I think. Just hold on for me, okay? We’ll fix you right up ….”

Five nods. And Maxine is calm, for a moment. But he knows her well enough to sense the panic when Five’s eyes close again. 

“We’re low on anesthetic …” Maxine takes a breath, glancing up at Evan once they find an empty bed. “You might need to hold her. Just for the start. I doubt she’ll -- she won’t stay conscious.” There’s an apology on her lips somewhere, but it doesn’t quite make it out. And Evan doesn’t ask, sitting himself on the bed to cradle Five up against his chest, just to offer some stability. 

“Maxine, is she going to -- Maxine, is she alright? Is she -- …” Sam trails off, lingering behind them with a held breath. 

“I don’t know, Sam.” Maxine spares him a glance. But just one, before she’s back to work, pulling a cart alongside her. “Go find Eugene for me, would you?” She pauses again, with lifted eyebrows. “They have the same blood type. We might need the help.” 

And Sam’s off, just like that. Running like Evan had never seen him run before. 

“She’s your responsibility, Maxine.” He’s quiet. So quiet, but firm. And he knows it might seem like an obvious statement, she was the single doctor in the township, they were all her responsibility in some way, but not this time.

This was different. Maxine had taken Five out there. Five had placed her trusted in the doctor, much more than some people would. That carried weight. It needed to carry weight. 

“I know. I know that, Evan.” Maxine is quiet as well, gathering gauze, and whatever other materials she can find. And for a moment -- just a moment -- he wonders if he’s been cruel. And then suddenly the silence is broken by a breath, and a nearly silent sob. 

They both glance down at the same time, quickly aware that Five is awake again, tears rolling down bloody cheeks as she tries to speak. And for once, he desperately wants to tell her to stop. To not waste her energy. For God’s sake, it looked like a bullet had grazed her temple, they had no idea what kind of damage was done --

“I’m s-- … I’m s -- …” She’s shaking again. And Evan does his best to figure out how to hold her more tightly, without causing her any more pain. “I’m sorry … Paula -- You sh--should’ve just. You should’ve left me ….”

His limbs feel cold.

Well and truly cold, like his blood had been replaced by ice, and for once -- for the first time in his life, he has no idea how to interject. Or what to say. But Maxine is quick enough. And suddenly his former words seem all the more cruel, as he watches Maxine shake her head, and reach to run gloved fingers through the runner’s bloodied hair. 

“No, Laura. No. I’m so sorry. I am so sorry, Laura.” She seems … very much like a mother, for a moment. And it seems intrusive, almost. Watching tears well up in Maxine’s eyes. “You trusted me. You trusted me, and I took you somewhere that wasn’t safe. I should never have done that. I love Paula, I do. But we love you here too, and I’m so glad we have you back.” 

There’s a long few seconds of silence as Five nods. And sniffles. But then she shudders again, and her eyes close, and it’s like something switches in Maxine’s head, and the tears are forgotten in favor of work. 

“I’m gonna move as quick as I can. I just need you to hold her arms, just while I finish the sutures. If she wakes up in the middle, she could panic, and she’ll only do more damage to herself …” She doesn’t need to tell him twice, he’s quick enough to comply, settling one of Five’s hands in his own, and wrapping his free hand around her forearm so she feels relatively secure. 

And then they’re silent, while he lets her work. 

Maxine is almost done with the sutures on Laura’s other wrist when the doors burst open again. Sam has both Eugene and Jack in tow, which was to be expected, he supposed. Jack and Eugene were basically a matched set, it wasn’t altogether common to see them apart … ever, so. Of course Jack had followed along. 

“Maxine -- ….”

There’s an awkward moment of silence while Maxine finishes off a suture and secures a bandage before she looks over her shoulder at the new arrivals. “Just -- sit, would you? Eugene -- Your blood type -- it’s O negative, right?” 

There’s a pause, but Eugene nods quickly enough. 

“Y -- ah, yeah. Yeah.”

“That’s great. Five’s is too …” Maxine is quiet again then, wiping at the blood on Five’s face with a sigh until she can see the wound splitting her temple. “I don’t think her head wound is too serious, it’s just bloody. That’s common.” She says, like it’s a comfort to anyone. “Eugene, why don’t you take a seat too, I’ll come over in a second …”

Eugene nods, and then he’s off to the corner. Evan tries to watch him, for a moment, but Maxine is speaking again quickly enough. 

“Hold her head, would you? I don’t expect she’ll wake up, at this point, but ….”

But better safe than sorry. Evan nods, gently cradling Five’s forehead with his palm until he’s fairly certain she won’t be able to move it if she wakes suddenly. Maxine is right, though. She barely twitches when Maxine starts to stitch the final laceration up. Which is a relief, he supposes, but also disquieting, in a way. He’d rather she be awake, and talking. 

“She’s so cold, Maxine …”

He holds his breath as he watches the Doctor nod, and tie off the final few stitches. It was shock, probably, if he had to make a guess. Laura’s fingers were so nearly blue. “I’m gonna do a blood transfusion, hopefully that’ll get her into better shape. And then if we can just keep her warm. Let her rest. Prevent any kind of infection ….” Maxine pauses, pulling her gloves off as she sits up and glances towards Eugene, Jack, and Sam. “She’ll be okay. It’ll be a long road, but she’ll be okay.” 

***

He has no idea how much time has passed once he realizes how quiet things have gotten. Laura hadn’t stirred at all, but she was set up with an IV now -- one of the few they had, that had been snagged on the last medical supplies run. 

Jack, Eugene, and Sam had all crashed long ago. In the corner, of course, settled in amongst each other in a nearly indistinguishable pile of limbs. They’d refused to leave. Mostly because Sam had refused to leave … and then Eugene, as well. Just in case. Just in case any more blood was needed, in the middle of the night. 

And of course …. Jack wouldn’t leave Eugene, so … here they all were. 

“You should go clean up. Get some rest ….” 

“Hm?” His eyebrows raise as he glances at Maxine again. It must’ve been hours, he’d had Five cradled in his lap the whole time. 

“Go clean up, Evan. At least get the blood washed off. I can watch her for now. It’s kind of my job …” She’s smiling, at least. Somehow, that makes the direction easier to contend with. And Bonnie had been on her own nearly the entire day, now. She’d be fine. She was well taken care of around the township, but they weren’t often separated for very long. 

So he complies. Because it’s logical, really. Because he was a runner, and he needed to stay sharp, regardless of the situation at hand. And they’d come get him, if something changed. They knew him well enough to do that. 

Still, rest was hardly something easy to accomplish. 

He’d slept in worse conditions, but this -- … it was different, somehow. 

He wasn’t used to the quiet anymore. And as much as he’d come to crave his bits of independence -- whatever solitary time he could come by -- he missed being crowded.   
Crowded by her, anyway. 

And he can’t help but be tense. Like he’s waiting for the worst. Waiting for a knock at the door, for someone to arrive and deliver bad news. No one ever does, though. So a fitful kind of sleep is accomplished, at least. 

Enough for him to feel functional, when he gets himself moving just before dawn. The world continued turning, so he would manage too. 

The hospital is about the same, as when he’d left it. Which is more of a relief than he can say, really. Maxine looked exhausted, but that was about the same as always. It was the same for all of them, anymore. 

“Evan -- it’s early ….” She blinks at him, as she takes a breath, glance drifting off towards Five as she speaks. 

“Figured you could use a break.” He shrugs, “I’m off for the day. No runs. And if anyone in the township needs to be at the top of their game, it’s you …”

Which she couldn’t argue with, not really. 

Maxine sighs after a moment, one hand reaching to scrub at her face as she does. “Just a few hours. Watch her temperature? And her breathing. We’re not out of the woods just yet. Just come get me if anything -- get me if anything changes. Anything at all.” 

“Of course.” Evan nods, watching as Maxine nods in turn before she wanders off towards her office. It’s a long second before he sighs, and finds a chair to drag over towards Five. It’s quiet, at least. That’s something. Sometimes the hospital was truly bustling. It was difficult to deal with, really. No one could get any rest when people were packed in like sardines. But it was calmer, today. Which was a blessing, he supposed. 

It’s quiet enough that he hears it when she twitches hard in her sleep. She mutters something, and he can’t quite make it out, but it hardly seems to matter -- the tone of it alone is enough for him to know it’s a nightmare. Not altogether surprising, all things considered. 

“Laura --” He does his best to keep his voice down, fingers reaching to brush through her hair. Just to brush it away from her face. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re in Abel ….” He pauses, hardly sure he’s even getting through to her. He doesn’t seem to be. His jaw clenches when she twitches again, and he’s quick to pull himself closer to try and hold her steady. 

“Hey. Laura …..” He trails off, biting roughly down on his lip before he takes a breath, and gentle hums the first song that comes to mind. God, what was it? His mother had sung it to him when he’d been younger -- god, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever sung anything. But there he was, voice cracking slightly with the effort of it. “ -- this is my quest. To follow that star. No matter how hopeless, no matter how far --” He pauses, only long enough to clear his throat. Because it seems to settle her enough, and that’s something. “ -- To fight for the right, without question or pause. To be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause ….”

“ -- Did you know Seven could --?” He can’t quite hear it. Sam whispering from the corner. Which is for the best, probably. Eugene shushes Sam quickly enough, regardless. It seemed disrespectful, somehow. Talking over any of it. Intrusive. 

“You could give Sinatra a run for his money …” Evan’s touch stalls in Laura’s hair as her eyes open. It’s brief, but it’s enough of a glance to give him some kind of relief. It’s nice to see her smirk, even if it is fleeting. 

“That’s what my mum used to say. Was quite the disappointment, when I went into arms dealing, instead of pursuing the opera.” He laughs. 

“You’d never make it in the opera anyway…” She smiles again. Which was more comforting than he could really say. But she falters a moment later. “It’s, uhm -- it’s freezing in here, it’s really ….”

God, she is shivering, isn’t she?

“Why don’t I see if I can find another blanket for you, yeah? I’m sure there’s one we can spare somewhere …”


End file.
